


Did we fail?

by tboi



Series: FE Oneshots [1]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: The Sacred Stones
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-21
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-05-22 07:21:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6070279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tboi/pseuds/tboi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Could we have done anything?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Did we fail?

They're ten and twelve years old, respectively, and yet, as they sit together on the grass outside his friends' castle, Lyon believes them to be wiser, braver, than any adult he's ever met.  


“It's called Siegmund,” Ephraim tells Lyon, sitting cross legged across from the other boy, his blue eyes full of wonder. “My father says that it'll be mine when I'm older.” There is a sense of pride in his voice, as if he cannot wait for what his weapon will bring, what he'll do with it (death, that's what it will bring, Lyon thinks, years later, clawing at his eyes.)  
Right now, though, he wonders why Ephraim can't just have it now – he deserves it, after all.  
“And father says I'll get Sieglinde.” Eirika tells him. She pronounces it wrong, Lyon notes. “It's much cooler. It's a sword.”  
“It's not cooler!” Ephraim turns, glaring at his sister, a grin of amusement on his face.  
“It is so.” Eirika tells him. “Swords are much more regal than lances, you know!”  
“Lyon,” they call upon him, simultaneously. “What do you think?”  
“They're twin weapons,” he tells them, his words wiser than his years, and _yet_ , “they're both equally lame.”  
Ephraim playfully shoves him on the shoulder, and his heart feels full as their laughter fills the air.

–

There is evil in his veins, he can feel it pounding – in his blood (does he have blood any more? Has it been replaced by this? What does it look like now, he wonders - is it black, black like coal in his father's fireplace, charred and useless, _useless_ -)  
He cuts his arm open later that night, makes no sound pulling the blade down his own arm, as he had done so many times before (not that he would ever hurt himself, is what he had told Ephraim and Eirika, their eyes full of worry of a boy not worth worrying about, and now, _he can't even feel it_ ), mind buzzing – his blood is thick, far too thick, a colour somewhere in between the red of his mother's cape and the black of his father's eyes, never once filled with any kindness, he remembers, and it falls much slower than it used to.  
He hopes his father is proud.  
He hopes someone is.

–

 

 _They have them_ , is what he thinks, the first thing on his mind upon seeing Eirika and Ephraim across his line of vision. Ephraim's face is sullen, he looks tired, so tired, and if Lyon was still here at all, he would have wanted to help, heal him, clear away the pain on his face because he loves him so-  
  
Eirika's is full of grief, maybe pity, mourning he thinks, but for who? Who has she to mourn? No one in these castle walls is worth mourning for, he wants to tell her, wants to make her smile again, he loves her too-  
Lyon has been dead for so, so long.  


–

It's a beautiful lance, red shaft, Lyon notes, as it makes its way cleanly through him. He doesn't feel it – hasn't felt anything, in a long, long time, not until he's in Ephraim's arms and Eirika is leaning over him does he feel the evil begin to disparate, soaking out of his skin like cinder. (Useless, useless, cinder.)  
The pain is real, now, and he is so, _so sorry_ , he is so sorry, he is breaking his friend's hearts a million times over, and he is so sorry.  
He dies in Ephraim's arms.

\--

 

They bury him together, on a Sunday. After the war is done – after it's all over. Whilst others are celebrating and hailing them as twin heroes, they both feel like they've failed – a war won, perhaps, but not their own, raging in their hearts.

They stand, together, over a lone gravestone on a hill.  
“I loved him, you know.” Ephraim tells Eirika, who thinks nothing of it – what is there to think of the obvious?  
“I know.” she tells him, truthfully, (of course she knew – how could she not recognise love she felt for Lyon, too, in her own brother?)

“Could we have done anything?” he asks her, eyes closed, the sunset creeping over the horizon in front of them.  
“Maybe.” Eirika says, her eyes on the horizon. “Whether we could or not, we're always going to blame ourselves.”  
  
They both die wondering, wishing, that it had been different.

 


End file.
